Walking the Darkened Road
by Randiriel the Scribe
Summary: Republic clone troopers Waxer and Boil, along with the Twi'lek child Numa, are captured by a cunning merchant whose "goods" are sentient beings. The life of a slave is brutal- they will not escape unscathed, if they escape at all. The time will come when each man must find his own way through the dark...
1. 1- Catalyst

Chapter One:

Catalyst

A single, ominous red light shone dimly from the ceiling, as the only thing that kept the small duranium room from being plunged into utter darkness. CT-4162 gazed pensively at the light. He had been unable to track the past hours, but his eyes had remained riveted on that light for almost the entire duration of his stay in this chill, cramped room.

The light wasn't adequate to see clearly, but the trooper had just been able to make out the contents of the room- which was, not much. CT-4162 had long ago concluded that the only things here were himself, the light, and perhaps a hidden surveillance camera.

He sat cross-legged against the far wall. Directly in front of him, shut and probably locked, was a heavy, solid steel door. There was no control panel on his side. Clearly, this was a holding cell of some type. Though he would dearly love to know the _who_'s and _why_'s of the situation, CT-4162 could already tell that there would be no answers until his captors decided to make themselves known.

He missed his armor. It was gone, along with his weapons. While unconscious, he'd been stripped of everything, down to the skin. The only article of clothing left to him was… well, his underwear.

CT-4162 shifted in place, trying to ignore the dull, throbbing ache in his shoulders and arms. His arms were extended above his head, secured in place by strong cuffs that were attached to the wall and locked around his wrists. The distance from the handcuffs to his shoulder sockets was great enough to stretch his arms and cause slight discomfort, effectively restraining him and hampering all of his movements. Not like there was anywhere to move anyway. The cell was more closet-sized than room-sized; hence the reason CT-4162's legs were crossed, and had been stuck that way for much longer than was comfortable.

Nothing had happened for so long, it came as a terrible shock when something _did_ happen. Without warning, the door slid open. Light flooded into the room, temporarily blinding the trooper. Squinting his eyes, he could make out the silhouette standing in the doorway- it belonged to a tall Twi'lek male. The Twi'lek did not step any closer, but instead fingered the blaster in the holster at his side almost thoughtfully. A moment passed, and neither spoke as they studied the other. Eyes now more adjusted, CT-4162 could see more about his captor. The Twi'lek was yellow-skinned, neatly groomed, and wore clean, simple clothes. He didn't look the criminal type.

"Hello," the Twi'lek finally said pleasantly. "What is your name?"

"My designation is CT-4162," the trooper said slowly, his suspicion aroused instantly.

"Yes, yes, but do you have a name?" the Twi'lek demanded impatiently. The trooper hesitated, before answering.

"They call me Waxer."

"Silly name," The Twi'lek scoffed. "But no matter. I am Skawn Dura, but you will call me Master. That is, until you have been sold off to someone else. In the meantime, you will do as told. Cause trouble and you will die. Others on this ship have a grudge against you, and will not be as merciful as I. For now, they have been convinced the price you will bring on the market is worth more than revenge, but their minds can be quickly and easily changed. I can attest to that."

"You're a slaver!" Waxer exclaimed, torn between horror and rage.

"No, no, no! You should say, 'You're a slaver, _Master_!' You've got to learn that quickly if you want to last long. I'll let it go this time, because you're new. If you speak to me, you must always address me as 'Master'."

"I will do no such thing!" Waxer snarled. "I'd rather die!"

Skawn shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Waxer's world erupted in searing pain that shot through his limbs and reached every part. His body writhed in agony, twisting against its bonds in a futile, subconscious attempt to escape. As the torture continued and seconds stretched into minutes, all thoughts were effectively wiped from his mind except for one overwhelming desire: Make. It. STOP!

He hadn't realized he was screaming, but when the torment ended as abruptly as it had begun, his throat was left hoarse and painful. Waxer hung limply in his bonds, head bowed. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath.

"As you can see, cooperation is so much more _pleasant_ for everyone involved. It even comes with a few benefits." Skawn's smooth voice roused the trooper. Summoning what was left of his strength, Waxer looked up and glared at his captor with more hate and loathing than he had ever yet felt before.

Not waiting for an answer, Skawn continued indifferently. "One benefit would obviously be the avoidance of another round with your shockcuffs. I'm sure you've noted their efficiency. A second benefit would be the survival of your comrades- the other clone and the little Twi'lek girl."

_Boil. Numa!_ Cold dread crept down Waxer's spine at the awful realization. They were being held captive too. He didn't even want to think about what the innocent young girl's fate might be in the cruel hands of slavers.

"Be forewarned," Skawn was saying. "I don't play fair. If you force my hand, they will also die. If one of you acts out, all of you suffer."

"Monster," Waxer grit out between clenched teeth. The Twi'lek actually had the gall to laugh at him.

"You could at least try to be original," the slaver chuckled as he turned to leave. "Come up with something I haven't heard before. Consider that a challenge."

And with that, the door closed behind the notorious being known as Skawn Dura, leaving Waxer alone once more with only the company of the single red light.

….

_10 standard hours previously…_

"I'm just trying to keep you alive!" Clone Trooper Boil shouted after his comrade. It was wasted effort, of course. Waxer had made up his mind, and the battle was as good as over. Boil huffed with exasperation, and allowed himself to feel a moment of frustration both at his brother, and the situation in general. It was just one Twi'lek, for Force's sake! They were supposed to be working towards the liberation of the village, not playing peek-a-boo! Still, despite all of his annoyance, it never even crossed Boil's mind to keep on with the mission and abandon his brother. He was already running after Waxer's retreating form when he muttered under his breath, "Darned if I know why."

This could only lead to trouble. At the least, they'd both end up polishing R2 units for a week. But if they weren't lucky, allowing themselves to get sidetracked like this might jeopardize the mission, which could lead to the ultimate trouble- high casualties. And they could never, ever afford that.

Waxer knew this. They all did. Waxer had never let himself be distracted from the mission before, and always followed orders to the letter. So what in the name of the galaxy was possessing his otherwise level-headed brother to run off after some Tail-head child?

Actually, Boil knew exactly what had gotten into him. The little girl was cute, she was in danger, and very alone. Waxer's heart would melt all over that.

Even running at top speed, and without bothering to study the many buildings they passed, Boil continued to feel the oppressive atmosphere that all of the clones had picked up on almost immediately as they entered the town. All of the buildings were abandoned. No trace nor sign of those to whom they rightfully belonged.

However, not all of the scars of war could be hidden, and aside from the eerie silence that plagued every empty home and alley, other signs of a violent invasion were portrayed by the gaping holes in the roofs and walls of the larger buildings, and the rubble that remained of the smaller. Bombs had been dropped. The droids had clearly been swift and ruthless, as always. How many innocents had died?

Boil's jaw clenched as he darted past what looked like a completely demolished home. He was a hardened soldier, toughened by the brutalities of war. But he'd be lying if he said the endless stream of violence and tragedy didn't bother him at all.

It seemed that the child they had inadvertently become responsible for didn't have any plans of stopping just yet. He watched as she ducked around a corner up ahead.

"Where is she going?" he wondered out loud. If Waxer heard, he didn't acknowledge him.

….

The two troopers rounded a corner and stopped short. They'd lost sight of her. This wasn't good. What if she'd run into droids? Had they shot her? But wouldn't they have heard the shots? Frantically scanning the area, Waxer felt a twinge of some foreign emotion he'd never experienced before. It was almost like… well, it was similar to panic.

Suddenly, Waxer saw the Twi'lek venture out from behind a giant rock up ahead. "There she is!" he exclaimed. The girl waved at them, then turned and ran off again, disregarding Waxer's shouts of "Wait! Stop!"

A few twists and turns later, the girl finally stopped running, and subsequently Waxer did the same. Boil halted next to them, irritable and only slightly out of breath.

"Oh, good, you caught her! You know, I have cuffs if we need 'em," Boil remarked.

Waxer shot him a look. "What?" Boil said innocently.

The girl was tugging at Waxer's hand, pointing somewhere off to the left. Waxer obediently followed as she guided him towards a damaged house. Boil, evidently realizing that he had no better options, trailed along behind.

"What are we doing here?" he asked impatiently.

Ignoring his brother, Waxer silently followed the Twi'lek up the steps and through the main entrance of the house. It looked just like any other Twi'lek building. It held no particular meaning or importance- except for one thing.

"This must be her home," Boil commented as he moved to settle himself comfortably on a large pile of fallen rocks in a corner of the damaged house. It really was badly damaged- Waxer briefly wondered if it was safe but eventually dismissed the thought. If the house had stood this long then chances were it wouldn't fall just yet.

"Poor thing. She lost everything," Waxer observed sadly. The little Twi'lek stood alone in the center of the room. She looked so… vulnerable.

Waxer glanced around the room, and a flash of color caught his eye. To his left, lying on the ground and covered in dust, was a brightly colored tooka doll. Acting on impulse, Waxer stooped and picked it up with one hand, then dusted it off with the other. Quietly walking up to the girl, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and offered the doll to her. The Twi'lek looked startled, then grabbed it.

The trooper's heart nearly broke when she gazed down at the doll, then burst into tears, clutching it in her tiny hands. Unsure of what to do, Waxer knelt beside the little girl. As he watched, he remembered another child from long ago. A child that had also wept alone- a young boy with cares and burdens thrust upon him that were far too heavy for his small shoulders. Only, that child had cried himself to sleep in secret, lonely and hopeless in the dark. That child had not a friend or protector. But this girl, unlike the boy of the past, still had hope, and she would not suffer as that boy had. Not if he could help it, Waxer resolved.

Kamino's flash-training didn't cover babysitting, and he wished he knew how to comfort the child. The best he could do was stay with her for now, and hope that his presence would somehow reassure the Twi'lek that everything would be okay.

An instant later, he was shocked. One moment she was standing in front of Waxer, weeping softly. The next, she was clinging to him, her skinny arms wrapped as far around him as they would go. He couldn't recall ever being hugged like that before. All of a sudden, his lack of experience didn't matter. He knew exactly what to do, as he slowly wrapped his own arms around her and hugged her close. They stayed like that for a long moment, with the girl crying into his chest plate and one of his gloved hands resting on the back of her head, tenderly stroking the top of her lekku.

Both the trooper and the Twi'lek looked up when Boil abruptly stood and walked over. Waxer saw immediately that Boil's expression was uncharacteristically gentle as he knelt awkwardly across from them.

"Don't cry kid." Boil appeared surprised himself at his own words. "We'll keep you safe. I… I promise."

**A/N: Ta-da! And that was my grand entry into the Star Wars fandom!**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think, if you can spare a moment. Reviews make great motivators, and critical ones can be very helpful. **

**As you can see, this fic will be primarily about Waxer, Boil, and of course, little Numa. There just aren't enough fics about those three! **

**You should also be forewarned that there will be NO SLASH IN THIS STORY. (See, I used Caps Lock so you know I mean business…) **

**I can't promise regular updates, but I promise that I'll do the best I can. I'm really excited about this fanfic- the plot's gonna go wild! **


	2. 2- Torn

Chapter Two:

Torn

Where were they?

None of the grown-ups brushing past Numa paid her so much as a second glance, too caught up in their own concerns to worry about a little girl. Numa kicked at the dirt and scowled. On a whim, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms, imitating the "unimpressed" look she had witnessed her mother use often.

Her efforts were wasted- no one even looked at her. Numa let the façade of sassy displeasure slip as real fear took root. She had never doubted that they were here, waiting to be rescued. But… were they? Everyone was saved, but she couldn't see anyone from her family. No, no, they were just messing with her. Yes, they were playing a bad joke. Any moment, they would jump out of hiding and scoop Numa up into their arms, like they did before. And then she would hug them, and cry, and when everyone was done hugging and crying, she would finally scold them for scaring her like that.

The moments passed. They didn't come.

Still she waited. They would come, she knew they would. The crowd was thinning, as families were reunited and together hurried off to discover what had become of their homes.

There were few people left in the square, now. Dusk had come, and pale ribbons of pink and golden light stretched across the western horizon. Still she waited. Numa looked, and looked, but could not see them. She listened for their voices, and waited to hear them call her name. They did not.

The square was empty of Twi'leks now, save for herself. Only clone troopers were left, milling about and paying her no attention.

They weren't coming.

A heartbeat, and the realization hit her with enough hard force to knock her breath away. She trembled.

She could wait, and wait, forever. But she knew now that they would never come.

_Mama, you can't be gone!_

The first tears fell.

_Come back…_

She was alone now. It was just her. There was no one left.

_Don't go._

Lingering only hurt. It was time to go.

_Goodbye Mama, Papa. _

She turned away from the square- away from them. She took a slow step, then another. Guilt clawed at her chest, because how _dare_ she abandon them, how _dare_ she give up!

Abruptly she broke into a run. She fled from the sorrow and despair, but they clung to her closer than a shadow.

_I'm sorry._

Still she ran on, and somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that she was almost home.

Home. Was that crumbled, damaged building even home, anymore? Or was it simply the last remnant of her past, happier life? Regardless, it was all that she had left.

Head down, with tear-blurred vision, she didn't see the danger until it was too late. She gasped, stumbling in shock and pain as a rough hand seized her by the lekku. A cruel yank, and she was pulled into a suffocating grasp that muffled her screams.

….

It was over.

Waxer felt a surge of relief at the realization, and let the death grip on his blaster loosen. It was over, the battle was won. The town was liberated, the Twi'leks were free, and he was alive. Boil was still alive too, and relatively uninjured. The worst either trooper had received during the fight was some bruising they got from being thrown a few feet by the Separatist cannon's final blast.

A wave of exhaustion now followed the first feelings of relief, as the adrenaline rush that had kept him going came to an end. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to reach the conclusion of the long, trying day and be able to go through his traditional after-battle routine. He would head to the mess hall with Boil, and they'd both show off whatever latest battle marks they'd collected. Then he'd take a nice hot shower and collapse in bed, most likely falling asleep even before his head hit the pillow…

But not now. With more effort than he would have liked, Waxer denied himself the opportunity to shut down mentally. There was something he had to take care of first.

He didn't have to look far for his almost constant companion.

"Boil, did you see her family?" Waxer asked his brother.

Knowing who Waxer was referring to, Boil shook his head.

"No, I didn't see them," Boil admitted. "I checked just a moment ago, and Numa was still by herself."

"All the Twi'leks have left."

"I know."

"I don't think her family was here."

Boil sighed. "Probably not," he agreed. There was a pause, as both considered this grim possibility.

"Where did you see her last?" Waxer questioned, his battered helmet swiveling from side to side as he scanned the area for a familiar little green-skinned girl.

"I'll show you," Boil said, leading the way to a far corner of the square.

"She's right over… huh."

Waxer glanced at his brother in concern as Boil suddenly came to a stop.

"What is it?"

"She's not here… she was just a moment ago."

Before Waxer had a chance to respond, Commander Cody's voice rang over their helmet's com units.

"Troopers, let's head out! This battle's over and our work here is done!"

Reluctantly, they turned and made their way towards the waiting gunships.

"Maybe she found someone," Waxer suggested in a last-ditch attempt for optimism, but even as he spoke the words he realized with a sinking heart that they weren't true.

Their steps gradually slowed until they had both come to a halt almost without realizing it. They looked back. Waxer shifted nervously, torn between his conscience and commands. All of a sudden, following orders didn't seem so appealing.

"We should go," Boil ventured. Neither moved.

Waxer was temporarily paralyzed with indecision, longing to do one task but told to do another. For once, he just simply didn't know what to do.

They must have both stood like that for a good long minute or so, because they were snapped out of it by a familiar irate voice.

"I don't get it. Do you slackers _want_ to be late? You're doing a darn good job of it."

Both troopers whirled around to face the disapproving wrath of their Commander. Cody stood in front of them, arms crossed and no doubt wearing an irritated scowl behind his helmet as he regarded the two wayward clones.

They snapped to attention.

"Sir! There is an explanation, sir!" Waxer found himself saying for the second time that day.

"Good, because I expect to hear it later. Get on the ship!" Cody ordered sternly.

"Sir, yes sir!" they automatically answered in unison.

They turned on their heels and set off at brisk pace towards the waiting gunship, but to their chagrin Cody pointedly added, "I suppose I'd better escort you there, to make sure you actually follow orders."

Waxer winced inwardly, realizing that it was going to take a while before they lived this down. Cody fell into step behind them, and as they marched, the two clones felt like they were being led by gunpoint. If you counted the Commander's steady glare at their backs, then the feeling wasn't entirely wrong.

Waxer glanced uneasily from side to side- for what, he couldn't say. Far too soon they arrived at the gunship.

_"So this is it,"_ he realized. _"We're just going to leave her."_ He stopped short. _"No! We promised her!"_

"What's the matter with you, trooper? Get a move on!" Cody snapped, obviously fed up with this procrastination.

Waxer blindly rushed forward, intending to get on board quickly so that all of this confusion and guilt could just _end. _In his haste, he slammed headlong into something hard. Staggering back, he barely managed to catch his balance.

"A bit distracted, Waxer?"

The calm, slightly winded voice thoroughly jolted Waxer out of his shocked daze. He looked down, and saw to his horror that he'd just succeeded in knocking none other than the esteemed Jedi General Kenobi into the dirt. Snapping to attention faster than should be physically possible, the mortified trooper was little reassured to observe that the General was both unhurt and mildly amused.

….

Cody watched, torn between amusement and concern at the scene before him.

"_Waxer's terrified,"_ Cody thought. What was wrong with the trooper, anyway? Waxer, along with Boil, had been acting odd lately, and it was affecting their performance in a bad way. The commander resolved to get to the bottom of it as soon as he had the opportunity.

"Sir, sorry sir!" Waxer exclaimed, and offered a hand to help the General. Ignoring it, the Jedi smoothly leapt back to his feet and nonchalantly brushed himself off.

"No need to worry, I've been tackled harder before," Kenobi said wryly.

"Sir, what brings you here?" Cody asked, not only out of polite obligation, but with a genuine note of curiosity. The General's presence here, while not unwelcome, was… unusual, to say the least. There wasn't much of particular importance going on- nothing that Cody couldn't handle on his own, that is. But the Commander hadn't served with Kenobi all this time without picking up on some things, and it didn't take long for him to guess what it was that brought the Jedi here. Kenobi's scrutinizing gaze settled on Waxer and Boil respectively, only confirming Cody's suspicions. Beneath the cover of his helmet, Cody openly smirked.

"I'll leave them to you, sir," he said casually.

Even without the Force, Cody could tell the two troopers beside him practically radiated horror. Chances were it wouldn't be half as bad as they thought it would be, but that didn't mean the Commander couldn't enjoy watching them squirm. Besides, it was payback of sorts, for keeping him worried and guessing earlier while they played peek-a-boo with a preschooler.

"Excellent. Cody, if you'll excuse us, I need to talk with Waxer and Boil alone for a moment," Kenobi ordered.

"Yes sir. I'll be waiting at the gunship," Cody answered, and left the three of them to their devices. Whatever they would be.


End file.
